Rebirth
by alena
Summary: Sorrow makes joy sweeter death makes love stronger. Finrod and Amarië.


_Disclaimer:_: All of Arda belong to Professor Tolkien.

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The R rating for this story is probably a fairly strong one (sexual content).

_Malinornë _is just Quenya for _mallorn_, and _elanarnen_ is Quenya for _elanor_ (plural, and the singular form is _elanar_, according to Alex Grigny de Castro's Quenya translation). 

All botanical, linguistic and geographical errors are mine.

* * *

**Rebirth**

****

She woke from a dream of green, of a forest-glade gently shimmering, the soft ripple of leaves, and of sunlight dancing over the waters.

She woke with the first light of dawn upon her face, and remembered not her dream. Arising, she went from her chamber, out onto the balcony, where birds were singing to greet the dawn. The bright Elven city was spread at her feet, bathed in a golden mist, and beyond it the rolling foothills of the Pelóri, gradually softening to forest-clad plains. Behind her, Taniquetil rose into the heavens, awesome and graceful, girdled with clouds; and in the far distance, embraced in the mountain range's arms, was a glint that spoke of Tirion.

How fair was Aman, the Unstained Land, but standing there in the midst of all its beauty, she felt the tearing claws of grief, once again, as always. In those woods and hills she had walked with her lover long ago, before Darkness fell; in the Noldorin city on the horizon her lover had once dwelt. Her lover Finrod, who had left her for a dream of starlit and shadow-doomed kingdoms, and had died in such a terrible dark place, such a far way from home.

So familiar was this sorrow, yet it never ceased, but was each day renewed, this same pain day after day, year after year, for how many years? Oh Finrod. Finrod. Once again she remembered that endless night of fear, when the Trees were dead and extinguished and yet without sun or moon. No amount of reasoning or entreaties or tears had been of use that night, though he had been torn and filled with anguish, and so very tender with her. Helplessly and pointlessly tender, for it had been a tenderness born of guilt, which had not stopped him from leaving.

And she had found herself by the sundering sea, alone, near poor bloodstained Alqualondë, beneath the newly-made moon, alone, gazing and gazing eastward, until the moon was no longer new. And before the pitying eyes of others she had a fragile smile and a carefully composed answer, something about pride and though she loved him and the Exalted Ones and folly...Until one day she had woken with a black dread in her heart, and soon after the crushing weight of knowledge, for the knowledge was of death. Then something long held desperately together inside her had finally shattered to a million pieces, and the world had gone blank and dark.

How many years has it been? How many years since that terrible moment, when all her loss and hurt and anger had turned inward upon herself, closing above her head? "I should have stopped him; I should have gone with him..." How many times had she repeated those words, in powerless self-reproach, at her own wisdom or mere lack of courage? For how many years had she walked in a daze, asking what-if and why, why did people not recoil or cry out when they saw her, saw black-winged despair perched heavily upon her shoulder, saw the gaping wound where her heart had been, should have been, tooth-torn, steel-torn?

Oh Finrod...

But as she stood there brooding over regrets and painful thoughts, another memory came to her, unbidden like a breeze. It was of a little clearing in the forest, in the hills north of Tirion, sprinkled with golden _elanar_ flowers, with a single young _malinornë,_ no more than a sapling, in the very middle. There she and Finrod had kissed for the first time, before the Darkness, before the fall. And as this fair memory touched her mind, she suddenly sensed something new and different within her pain, as if some secret voice was whispering to her, just beyond hearing, like raindrops upon trees, though she could not capture its words, nor did she know whence it came. And something green inside her came to life, putting forth young shoots and tendrils, driving back the pain and purifying it, cleansing it of bitterness and of anger.

Then, all in an instant, in a rush, the singing of birds filled her ears, for it was morning and they were singing, on the railings and at the windows, in the ivy trailing over the white walls, in the trees shading the gardens, and in the sky. She held still, listening, straining her senses and her heart, trying to discern amid their songs the murmuring of that tiny hidden voice. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she reached out, caught hold of the green place of her dreams, saw it with waking eyes, saw it for her memory; at last and with a start, for it had been a long time awaiting, she heard the whisper in her heart, heard its words. She heard it prompting, calling, speaking of love, love defeating death, and at long, long last, for it had been far too many years, she recognized it, and it was hope.

*

She travelled at a slow pace, at first hesitantly, fearful of what her journey's end would bring. So she went slowly, with a trembling heart, like a small child taking her first steps on earth. But her dreams called her, and she went, from her mother and father's house, into Arda's radiant spring, toward Tirion and the Sea, and rising hope went with her. All around her the land was full of life and glory; the hills were laden with Yavanna's profusion, many-ranked against the sky, rippling, hill beyond alcedine hill, and the fields of grass and the fields of corn were like great sheets of emerald beneath the sun, and the waters sang and laughed. She rode on, crossing this verdant world, gradually letting its beauty drench her soul. And the trees of the forest and of the plain greeted her: the birch with silvery heart-shaped leaves, the tall dusky cedar, the oak with wide-spreading boughs, the _nessamelda_ singing joyously in the wind, the _lairelossë _bejeweled with blossoms. But her dreams were more beautiful than all of these, for she dreamt of the place where she had walked with her lover, the small glade in the woods open to the sky, with a young _malinornë _in the midst, suffused with light.

The dreams drew her on, irresistibly, and memories of him came to her, from innocent days: Finrod her beloved, fairest of all the princes of the Firstborn, strong and merry, golden-haired and great-hearted. And she was filled with a deep yearning, which grew as she went, both painful and sweet, like some mysterious music, pulling her along, aching and aching and reaching, calling, but without bitterness.

So came the Elf-maiden Amarië to the fair hills north of Tirion, her soul brimming over with both sorrow and gladness, and it was a bright morning. Dismounting, she walked into the forest. Great _vardarianni_ and _malinorni_ surrounded her, their trunks like the pillars of some ancient hall, venerable and massive, covered with the patina of weather and age, but their leaves were young, alive with the songs of hidden birds and with green light, delicately and richly green, every leaf a different hue, flickering and shining green, luminously and heart-breakingly green.

Suddenly, a breeze parted the branches above her head, and the splendour of sunlight and some other light poured down upon her, illuminating her hair and her face. In that moment her heart gave a tremendous leap, almost taking her up from the ground and into the very air. She cried out, for as once before knowledge came upon her, but the knowledge was of life and not death, and it was his name that she cried out, Finrod, oh Finrod, and she began to run, through the forest, between the trees, crying with hope. She ran faster and faster, and above her the birds sang in a wild music, the leaves dappled, flashed, gold, green, gold green, faster and faster, until her dress and hair were flowing out behind her, flying, she was flying--

She burst out at a full sprint from the woods, heart pounding and flooding with joy, into the clearing, into the dazzling light. And there in the very middle of the glade, beneath the proud upswept boughs of the tall _malinornë,_ was an Elf lying as if in a deep sleep, his eyes closed, naked as on the day he was born, his arms spread out, his hair mingling with the golden _elanarnen_, and it was he.

She dropped to her knees beside him. Very lightly, she touched his face, sweeping aside a loose lock of bright hair. But this was no dream, no mirage, but truly Finrod her beloved returned from death, returned from the Halls of Mandos, from distant dark places, whole and beautiful as the sun, his body unmarred, his face at peace. Slipping an arm beneath him, Amarië lifted his shoulders and cradled his head in her arms, against her breast, against her heartbeat, calling his name, calling him home, and maybe it was hours, maybe days, maybe ages, maybe it was only a few moments, and he opened his eyes.

*

His eyes, grey and clear, were wise with the experience of many sorrows, yet they were also pure, and glad, and as full of wonder as her own eyes.

"Amarië?" he whispered, lifting a hand slowly to her face. His fingertips brushed her cheek, barely.

At the sound of his voice, her eyes went blurry with tears at last. With an effort, she found the words.

"Yes," she answered, a smile breaking out from beneath the tears. "Yes, Finrod, it is I, and you live. You live."

Suddenly Finrod laughed out in sheer delight, and before she knew it, he leapt to his feet, pulling her up with him. He sprang into the glorious sunshine, raising his head high up towards the blue sky, spreading his arms wide, revelling in the new life in his body, remade, reborn.

How beautiful he was, her heart cried out, breaking as it had once before, but this time from a piercing happiness. His form was sinewy, long-limbed and fair, his skin smooth, unscarred by all the torments of Middle-earth, and his light so bright, so radiant, burning with a new strength, more radiant than ever, more than before his departure, before that long-past night. She laughed out aloud also, watching the dapple and play of sunbeams on his skin. Then, she became abruptly aware of his nakedness, and she blushed like a rose.

Finrod stepped closed to her once more, taking her hands, his face now serious and thoughtful, and to her surprise, afraid. They stood face to face, her hands in his, and she realized that tears were stinging her eyes again.

Oh by all the graces given unto Arda, what has he suffered, what has he come through.

"Amarië?" he asked softly, suddenly sounding unsure.

This time, she could not find her voice at all, and she just stood there gazing into his eyes.

"Amarië, forgive me,"

All she could do in reply was to pull her hands away and push her body forward, and standing on tiptoes she threw her arms around his neck, and her lips against his lips. Instantly, they were both breathing again, hearts pounding in rhythm, and he encircled her with his bare arms. Their kiss deepened, turning to fire that ran wild from her lips to her chest, stomach, and limbs, for it was a passion far too long languishing in emptiness, far too long denied. Opening her eyes, she saw the same passion in him, the same need, the same fire, the same love.

Finrod pulled back a little, breathing hard, his eyes searching her face intently. "I have changed much," he began to speak, then stopped, for there were too many things to say, to tell and to ask, that he knew not where to begin. And perhaps there really was no need to say anything at all.

Amarië met his gaze. "Yes," she replied, "so have I,"

Placing a hand lightly to the back of her head, Finrod pulled her close again, and they kissed again, vigorously, tongues moving past parted lips, meeting and running over each other, delighting in the contact, and their passion grew. Then Amarië drew his hands to the front of her body, and they were both tugging at her clothing, fingers flying impetuously over the buttons and the lacing. Finally, her dress fell about her feet, and she stood clad only in a thin underdress, shivering a little with the wind and with desire, her form tall and slender, her skin flushed and luminous, her beauty breath-taking.

Her eyes sparkling, Amarië pulled the last piece of clothing over her head and tossed it aside, in one fluid movement, so that she was as naked and free as he, and they were like two newborn children in the woods.

Taking hold of her arms, Finrod kissed her, all parts of her, her eyes, lips, throat, then her shoulders, He kissed her breasts, circling the rosy aureoles, the firm nipples, and the narrow crevice between her breasts. He kissed her relentlessly, savouring the taste of her skin and her quickening tremors, his arms against her sides supporting her weight, some kisses butterfly-light, some deep and almost bruising, and her whole body sang out like a harp-string suspended over the abyss.

As his tongue found at last her navel, Amarië gave a low cry, overcome, and sank to her knees also, bringing herself level with him. Moving quickly she pressed her mouth to his skin, returning the kisses ardently, kissing his shoulders and chest. Her lips brushed against his nipple, while her fingers ran along the taunt muscles of his sides and his back, along his spine, and Finrod uttered a groan, shuddering with pleasure.

Kneeling, they caressed each other; their hands and lips and souls caressed each other, exploring, finding all the sensitive places, now embracing hard, now pulling apart, clasping and unclasping, clinging to each other. She felt his eagerness pressing and burning against her belly, and one of his hands cupping her breast, the other in her hair; she felt the entirety of his body hot and strong, reborn from depths of darkness into light and reclaimed.

Finally, unable to delay any longer, they collapsed together upon the green turf, entwined, their hair mingling, gold on gold.

"I love thee," Amarië whispered, barely mustering all the breath that was left to her.

Finrod finished her thought, his voice husky and low.

"I have loved thee all through the long dark years."

Raising himself up on one elbow, he gently laid her on her back, parting the soft petals of her flesh. Slowly he entered into her, making her gasp, sending a surge of heat both painful and sweet throbbing through her body. And Amarië's fingers were entangled in his hair; her soft moans were calling him on, imploring him to thrust deeper. For a moment he held still, eyes closed yet still seeing her with perfect clarity, trying to hold on to this instant, and they were poised at the very edge. Then he moved, reaching deeply within her, and she met him instinctively, her hips arching against him, the palms of her hands now rubbing hard against the back of his neck, driving his fire to desperate heights. They moved together, merging, submerging in fervent waves, coming to surface; they lingered, plunged on, lingered again, alternating, her hands running over his hair, his back and buttocks. Joined in flesh and soul they moved together, as if never to separate again, his lips alighting on her neck and breasts, at once fierce and tender, their rapture ever-growing, drenched in light green and gold, the dazzling light of the sun of the _malinornë _the _elanarnen_, until they were lifted from the world, and in that release, all the hurts, all the loss, all the darkness and sorrows of their lives were caught up in the conflagration, ignited to a white blaze, and burned away.

*

They lay wrapped in each other's arms, golden flowers twinkling in the grass all around them. His fingers traced the ever-shifting patterns that the leaves' shadows made on the skin of her shoulder, playfully.

"A part of me still fears that this is only a marvelous dream," Amarië said quietly, "for the years have been long, and you have returned to me from beyond hope."

"Yet this joy is made the greater for all the long years of sorrow, when it seemed that no hope was left to us," Finrod replied thoughtfully. "Though in truth hope was never dead, but merely sleeping, perhaps."

Raising his hand to her lips, Amarië kissed it, very gently. "When the light returns at last, it comes in such a sudden flood, that it overwhelms me. Where do we go from here, my love?"

Finrod sat up, eyes bright. "Come with me to Tirion!" he cried eagerly, "I am filled with longing for my home of old, and father and mother must be getting impatient, for they have been waiting many years already." He leapt lightly to his feet, grinning broadly. "If you are willing to walk into the city with a stark-naked Elf in tow, of course."

Amarië grinned also, and accepted his extended hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "I shall be walking into the city with the fairest prince of all the Elves!" she answered happily, regarding him with slightly tilted head. "Your mother and father will not mind at all, I am sure--" Then she paused, and a pink flush suffused her skin again, all over her body, almost making him reach for her once more, despite his urgency to return. "And after that, I think, we should also go to my parents," she added, picking up her dress.

"And will _they_ mind?" Finrod asked, smiling.

Amarië took his hand and grasped it firmly.

"No."

And so hand in hand they went out from the clearing in the woods, in the fair hills north of Tirion, with golden _elanarnen_ sprinkled amid the grass, and a single _malinornë _tree in the middle, now grown ancient and tall, its branches upswept, proud, its leaves young and green.


End file.
